Diana Monroe | Paparazzi (gimme_deets) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-03-24 20:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | belial, paparazzi |
Before the night is through
Who: Belial, Rebecca (NPC), a tiny bit of off-screen Paparazzi
What: A date and a photo shoot
Where: Dorsia, then Belial's studio slash penthouse
When: Wednesday night, around 7.
Warnings: Uh... Belial being a giant creeper at a (of-age) teenager, alcohol misuse, sexual content of... shall we delicately say extremely dubious consent?
Rebecca was not nervous. As a rule, she didn't get nervous. There was rarely a time when she didn't have control over the people and situations around her, when she wasn't constantly pulling and pushing at strings and at people to get them just where she wanted. This, however, was one of those times.
The fairly creepy revelation that her boss had been spying on her had set something off. An influx of suspicion, shifting things out of balance. What would motivate Diana Monroe to spy on an 18-year-old college student? Coupled with the woman's sudden interest in Rebecca's personal life and well-being, and Rebecca was half-afraid that her boss had some kind of lesbian crush on her. If she wasn't careful, Diana could go completely Fatal Attraction on her and boil a bunny in the dorm kitchen or something. Somehow, toying with the green-and-gold ring she had been wearing... well, it felt like forever, but she couldn't quite remember where it had come from... but playing with the damn thing made her feel better. A little cocoon wrapped around her worries about work, softening the sharp, paranoid edges, freeing the girl up to focus on Ben. Ben, and his amazing eyes and gorgeous hair.
See, it wasn't that she was nervous. No. She was just off-balance, and had been for a few days. As if learning that her boss was a total freak wasn't bad enough, suddenly this ridiculously hot, rich, famous photographer was asking her to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town- right after he took time out of his day to help debug a skinny freshman's computer. It was just. Weird. So sure, maybe she was tapping her foot against the car floor a little faster than normal, enjoying the crisp rat-a-tat-tat of her shoe on the rough material. Maybe she was drawing her coat a little tighter around her, unwilling for her date to see the ridiculously expensive dress she was wearing.
As if everything wasn't enough, her stupid friend Tiffany had insisted on this stupid dress and of course Rebecca was giddy about wearing designer, but for God's sake she was wearing several thousand dollars of clothing that wasn't hers and sitting next to someone who could be dating supermodels plural if he wanted.
So though she never dropped her smooth-as-butter smile or let nervousness creep into her cotton-candy voice, when Benjamin Lyle looked over at her from the driver's seat of his extremely expensive car and smiled? Yeah, Rebecca's blue eyes might have shone with something just a little vulnerable.